


All These Years Pt II

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Haylor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: They had never forgotten, even after all these years.





	All These Years Pt II

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't been intending on writing a continuation of '[All These Years](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13541439)' and yet here we are! As always, thanks so much for your encouragement and for another chance to go getting All Sappy - I hope you like it! xx

 

For all of the parties she had been to over the expanse of her career, Taylor still didn’t feel like she really fit in. She was invited because she was Taylor Swift, and it looked good to have Taylor Swift decide to go to your party, even if no one really cared one way or another if Taylor Swift went to any party.

Cynical. That’s what she had become. As a single woman now in her thirties, still with teenage insecurities superglued to her subconscious, being in a beautiful room with beautiful people and their beautiful lovers and beautiful friends did not fill her with confidence. Sometimes, she wondered why she still went to these things, and she had to remind herself that she deserved to be there just as much as everyone else.

It was after the Brit awards; being back in London didn’t fill her with the most pleasant of feelings. After the awards show, she could’ve sat at home, in the place she had nearly sold on impulse to cut ties from this city that kept offering her promises that wouldn’t be kept, and she could’ve ordered take-out and watched re-runs on TV, still in her sparkly dress. The choice was tempting, but she had friends who were planning to go out, and she knew that if she did stay home alone for the rest of the night she would end up thinking about the past, and she really didn’t want that.

So her sparkly dress saw the inside of a booked-out club, filled with show-goers and their plus-ones, where the loud music would drown out any unwanted memories.

Taylor stuck with her friends, like she did at every other party. She had drinks with Ed and Sam, though she didn’t want to cling too much to either of them, since both had brought their partners along and nobody could honestly say they wanted to be a third, let alone fifth, wheel. She danced and she drank, to celebrate that she had taken home an award as an international artist, and for quite some time, she had no idea that a piece of her past was right there watching.

Someone in a yellow ochre suit shouldn’t have been hard to miss. Maybe she had simply blocked out the vision of the dark yellow flowers, buzzing with bees, that she had seen at the show earlier (what a ridiculous print for a suit, anyway!), for she didn’t want to torment herself with What Could’ve Been any more than she already had. He had surely given up hope on her by now; she had given up something good for nothing.

Taylor and Harry hadn’t seen each other since Ed’s wedding two years ago. There had been brief glances at awards shows, but they didn’t talk anymore; they had never called. Their lives had drifted apart in the natural order of things, and that was okay. Okay, except that they still haunted each other in their dreams.

How long did it take to fully get over a person? There were exes Taylor was ecstatic to never have to see again – like, ever. But Harry…

Damn Harry would never get out of her head!

She feared she would never be free of him. For the rest of her life, she would be plagued by the memory of gorgeous dimples and clear green eyes that had once held her captive in their hypnotising gaze. She would never forget what it was like to rest her head between soaring swallow tattoos and hear a heartbeat in sync with her own, to hear ‘good morning’ and ‘good night, beautiful’ from the boy who had blossomed into a charming young man.

Harry saw Taylor in just about every other girl he met. He saw her intelligence, her drive, her dry sense of humour – but it was never the same. He could – and he did – search all he wanted, but he could never find anyone who could truly match her. It was easier in looks, but having sex with tall beautiful blondes wasn’t so fulfilling when he kept picturing a specific one instead.

He tried to convince himself that he only still thought about Taylor because she was the first girl he had ever truly fallen hard for. He had heard that first loves stay with you, but did they stay like _this?_ Did they make you feel like there was no one else in the world for you, only for it to be a naïve fantasy?

It didn’t seem fair. He had watched her life in pictures, seen her love other men – proof that she had moved on. Harry thought he was the only one still dreaming about a love that was timed wrong.

Both of them were tormented by words they had never had the courage to say.

But when Harry saw her that night, sparkling in a silver dress, an old, dusty switch clicked, and he suddenly couldn’t waste his life any longer.

He bade his time. He couldn’t simply waltz right up to her as if no time had passed; besides, he could do with a drink or two first.

For a while, he lost sight of her; he too had friends here, who he spent most of his time with. He caught up with Ed while Taylor was elsewhere, a habit they had gotten into to avoid any discomfort.

“She just went out onto the balcony,” Ed informed him. They were on the second floor of the glitzy club; they were a few more levels up from the ground floor, so the rear balcony showed off a decent view of the city.

Harry played dumb. “Who did?”

“Taylor. Go keep her company before someone else does.”

“What if she doesn’t want my company?”

Ed, who had been stuck between them for far too many years now, gave him a meaningful look. “Get out there, mate.”

Glancing out the glass doors, Harry made his, slightly dramatic, decision. It was now or never.

First, he stopped at the bar – he wasn’t going to show up empty handed, was he? Once he got new drinks for the both of them, he headed outside and took a deep breath, feeling stupidly like a nervous teenager all over again.

Taylor had stepped outside for some fresh air, the balcony coming as a disappointment. There were more people than she would’ve liked, some talking and some all over each other, and the air smelled like cigarette smoke. At least when she slunk her way to a free spot along the railing, the view she had wasn’t so bad. She would only stay for a few minutes.

Until Harry seemingly materialised beside her, offering her a drink. “Hey,” he said, as creative as he could come up with when his heart was hammering away in his chest.

“Hi,” Taylor smiled back at him, her own insides behaving out of sorts now he was in such close proximity. That feeling had frustratingly never ceased.

Their fingers brushed as she accepted the drink, their first touch in years. It was both exciting and comfortingly familiar.

“Vodka Diet Coke,” Harry told her as she looked down at the dark liquid in her glass, and her smile brightened when she glanced back up at him. He had remembered.

“Thank you,” Taylor replied warmly, taking an appreciative sip. “Congrats on your award! You really deserved it.”

Harry had taken out the award for British Single. He hadn’t really been expecting a win (who did, really?) but he had really hoped that he might get to take home a trophy of his own for the hard work he had put into his second solo album.

“Same to you, too,” he returned genuinely, to which she shrugged modestly. She hadn’t been expecting a win either.

“Are you here with anyone?” she wondered. She had heard he and Camille had broken up only a couple months after the wedding; she knew better than to try to keep tabs on who he spent his time with next.

“Liam’s around here somewhere,” he said, with a glance over his shoulders as if he might just appear like he had. “Niall, too.”

“Oh yeah, I saw him before,” she recalled. “You’ve almost got the whole gang back together.”

Harry chuckled. “Almost, yeah.”

This, thankfully, wasn’t as awkward as he had been anticipating. She didn’t look horrified that he’d thought it okay to approach her, nor was she making quick excuses to get away.

And so he took a chance on saying, “I’m really glad you’re here, too,” and was overwhelmingly relieved to make her smile, the same enchanting, heart-stopping smile he had always been weak for.

The moment was nearly ruined by someone accidentally bumping into the back of Harry; if it weren’t for his secure grasp on his glass, the knock would’ve sent the contents sloshing all down the front of her dress. Naturally, Taylor put her hand on his arm to help steady him, her touch multiplying his nerves by a thousand.

“You okay?” she checked, once the stranger offered a brief apology.

“I’m good.”

“Do you wanna find a spot back inside?”

“Sure.”

While her hand left his arm, his found the small of her back, keeping them close as they weaved their way back into the crowd inside. There was seating on this floor, long lounges and some more private booths toward the back. They managed to score one just as a group of four was leaving, slinking in before anyone else had the chance.

“It’s really good to see you again,” Taylor told him, leaning forward against the table separating them so she would be heard over music and chatter. “You’re looking really good.”

“So are you,” Harry smiled back at her.

“Your hair’s getting longer,” she commented, and he reached up to touch it, still short by comparison to his past styles but having grown enough for the dark locks to embrace their natural curl. He hadn’t had a cut for a while. “Are you gonna grow it out again?”

“Dunno yet. ‘S a lot easier to manage when it’s shorter.”

“Aww, but I thought you liked your Rapunzel hair.”

Taylor giggled, and he took a sip of his drink to hide his grin. “Rapunzel hair?”

“This is not the first drink I’ve had tonight,” she assured him, raising her own glass. Perhaps that’s why it was easier: they had both loosened up before encountering each other. It certainly helped that neither of them was attached, unlike the last time they had spoken.

It helped that they had grown some more, too. Every time they met, they were a little older, a little wiser, and yet still hopelessly fascinated by each other.

“If I’m Rapunzel–”

“You’re not really Rapunzel right now since your hair’s not long and flowing.”

“–what does that make you?”

Tilting her head, Taylor pretended to seriously consider it. “If you’re Rapunzel, then I guess that makes me your Prince Charming.”

She couldn’t hold her serious expression for long, the pair of them descending into silly giggles. “’S nice to know I’m in capable hands.”

“You might want to work on growing out your hair if you want me to rescue you from any towers.”

“You might want to practice your climbing.”

“Who says I’m not a good climber? I watch my cats climb all the time.”

“You’re not a cat.”

There was more of all that, as there always was once they got going. They reconnected like old friends – they _were_ old friends. Through everything that had passed between them, their personalities had always bonded well as friends. It was just difficult to maintain when there was always a little pocket of their hearts that was still in love with them.

In the booth, they remained longer than anticipated. They ordered new drinks, were joined fleetingly by Niall and later Ed and Cherry, who brought a round of celebratory shots to the table. They got the feeling that it wasn’t only their career successes that they were celebrating.

After Taylor got back from a trip to the bathroom, not quite so quick when she had to wait in line, she had barely sat down again before he was asking her back up.

“D’you want to get out of here?”

It had been far too long since she had last heard him say that.

“And go where?” she asked, already sold.

“You hungry?”

“Yes.”

“I know a place.”

And so she trusted him, for she had been waiting for something like this. Now that he was right here, she didn’t want to easily let him slip away, back out of her life again.

Harry made a toilet stop of his own before they took the elevator down to the ground floor. When Taylor had gone to collect her bag from the guarded cloakroom, she had asked about a back exit (they were sure there would be paps waiting out front), and one of the security guards downstairs was happy to lead the way. They weren’t the first who had wanted privacy.

The dark alley they found themselves in didn’t exactly seem like a safe alternative. Following the burly guard’s instructions, they headed right, sticking close together. Taylor wished she had eaten more earlier, as she stumbled blindly on her heels; she was drunker than she had been planning on.

A taxi met up with them on the side street they popped out on. The driver made no comment as they climbed inside, driving professionally on once Harry gave him an address. Taylor hadn’t heard of it.

They were entertaining passengers, at least. Taylor tried to sneak a photo of Harry on her phone while he wasn’t looking, which he inevitably noticed and consequently tried to swipe her phone off her. When her grip was too protective, Harry pulled out his own phone and did one better: he filmed a short video of her. If tonight was simply a one-off and they would return again to their separate lives tomorrow, at least he would have one last memory of making her laugh in the back of a taxi, which he could replay forever.

They left Ed an enthusiastic voicemail when his latest single started playing on the radio. Their driver got quite the show as they sang along – he tried not to laugh as he caught Taylor’s dancing, mostly limited to hand movements, in the rear-view mirror – and he was mighty glad he was working this weekday night.

Finally, they came to a stop at their destination, Taylor immediately unbuckling as she peered out the window. With an excited “Yum!”, she tipped the driver what cash she had in her clutch, thanked him, and jumped out without waiting for Harry. Both men were left chuckling over her hasty departure; Harry paid the fare and went after her, after offering thanks of his own.

Taylor was waiting for him outside; together, they entered the kebab shop that was still open at the late hour. They weren’t the only ones there, but they were the most conspicuous – it was unsurprising that no one else was dressed in designer sparkles or a floral suit. They were stared at, but at least no one was asking why Taylor Swift and Harry Styles were rolling into a kebab shop together, drunk and dressed to the nines.

Harry ordered lamb kebabs for both of them; he had been here on late nights before with his mates, and promised her she wouldn’t be disappointed. He didn’t realise that Taylor was just happy to be with him again, no matter where they were.

They each gave their thanks once their orders were made, stepping back out onto the street with their hot bundles. Harry watched eagerly as she unwrapped the top of her kebab and took her first bite, looking wonderfully pleased as she closed her eyes and chewed.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Taylor said, as soon as she swallowed. “I _really_ needed this; this is _so_ good.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Harry grinned, beginning to peel back the white paper wrapping of his own.

“This is why we should be like–” She crossed her fingers symbolically; they had never really been as close as both of them had truly wanted. “Hey, what happened to our taxi?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’d he go?” she asked, looking up and down the taxi-less street. “Didn’t you ask him to wait for us?”

“No.”

“Harry!” Taylor laughed, playfully hitting him with her clutch. “Do you want us to _walk_ home?”

“Sure,” he teased, linking his arm with hers and beginning to lead her down the path, to the sound of her laughter.

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Course I do. I live here, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you know every street in every neighbourhood.”

“But I know _this_ one.”

She decided to humour him, sure that they would get lost eventually and call another cab. After all, he wasn’t _really_ going to make her walk all the way home – was he?

The night air here, free of revellers and the cigarettes they shouldn’t have been smoking, was more refreshing, and Taylor found herself glad to be out. The company was nice; she wasn’t worrying about every little thing like she had thought she would be. Despite the distance, she found being with Harry again oddly normal. They had a knack for circling back into each other’s lives, and for that time, however brief, they could pick up almost where they had left off.

What struck them the most was how little their feelings changed. Even after all these years, they were electrified in each other’s presence, two sparks set to ignite. They still got butterflies and racing hearts, had burning passion, and, most painfully, an aching desire to make the other fall in love.

Even if it wasn’t in the forefront, it was always there. The embers burned on, determined to wait until they could once again blaze.

Though the alcohol in her system and the hearty kebab were keeping her insides warm, Taylor’s outfit wasn’t suited to the chilly night air. A backless halter neck wasn’t made for winter nights; Taylor’s bare skin could’ve done with proper cover, which Harry realised when he companionably rested his hand on her back, over her spine – the chills she felt then weren’t from the weather. Gentlemanly, he offered her his jacket, insisting that she needed it more than he did; he was already taking it off before she could stop him.

“Where did you even _find_ this?” Taylor teased as she slipped it on, the finely tailored fabric heavier on her smaller frame.

“Don’t you like it?” Harry wished for them to pass under a brighter street light so he could catch a better look at her; seeing her in his clothes always had been a turn on.

“You have the most outrageous taste out of every guy I know.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I saw this shirt and it was covered in pineapples and it reminded me of you.” Taylor kept her eyes ahead of her, not just so she wouldn’t trip over anything in the dark. It had only been a few months back that she had seen the shirt online and immediately thought of Harry. It was just another one of those silly little things, those occasional reminders that popped up now and then. She had never meant to tell him, had only let it slip since she had been drinking.

It wouldn’t be their only confession that night.

“I saw a cat beanie that reminded me of you,” Harry decided to join in; he too could never get her out of his head, not for long.

“A human beanie with ears like a cat, or a beanie _for_ a cat?”

“A human beanie. Had little whiskers drawn on it, too.”

“I want a beanie _for_ my cats. Mere would probably scratch my eyes out while I tried to put it on her.”

“ _Woman mauled by cat as she tries to accessorise it_.”

“ _Neighbours overheard her last words: ‘You_ will _wear the beanie, damn you!’_ ”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she wears it to the funeral.”

“I’ll make sure to haunt your ass,” she fired back. “All of a sudden your lights will start flickering on and off, and your things will be oddly out of place, and you start to think you must be going crazy, especially since you’re hearing meowing at night and you don’t even own a cat, until you realise… maybe dressing Meredith up in the beanie that got Taylor killed wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

“You have a strange mind, you know?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Taylor nearly slipped on the pavement as she tried to curtsy, the sounds of their laughter echoing down the quiet road as Harry rested a protective arm around her waist.

“How much further is it? My feet are sad,” she complained once steadied, her stilettos not the most practical footwear option for a long walk home.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near anything.”

“Harry!” Laughing, she playfully smacked his chest, and he melted at the sound of his name coming out her mouth again. “I thought you were being _nice!_ ”

“I just wanted to walk with you for a while,” he grinned guiltily.

“Call us a taxi or else I’ll call one myself and leave you here.”

“You’ll come home with me?”

“If you ask me properly, I might.”

Taking her hands, he turned towards her, smiling as their eyes met. “Will you please come back to my place? I have a bottle of wine and a block of chocolate to share.”

“Deal!”

Once they figured out which street they were on, they got a taxi to come pick them up. Harry couldn’t believe this was seriously happening, while Taylor wondered if she had officially gone mad. Both thought, more than once, that they must just be dreaming.

It had been a long time since Taylor had visited his house. In London, they lived so close that they could’ve easily visited each other regularly, but that had never happened. They never knew when the other would be around; the only time Taylor really spent long in London was when she had been dating Joe, and visiting Harry had hardly been at the top of her agenda at that time.

Even so, when she saw headlights pass by her window at night, she had still thought of him, his house just further down the street. She could’ve stopped by, but she had always been too afraid of resurfacing the feelings that always came back whenever she saw him.

Those feelings were what spurred her to follow him home now, in the hope that she wasn’t the only one still yearning after all these years.

His place looked the same as she remembered it. She slipped off her shoes at the door, reminiscent of the comfort she had once felt being alone with him, and she sighed at the relief in no longer having to prance around in heels. In another time, Harry would’ve swept her off her feet and carried her anywhere (probably to the bedroom), yet he simply smiled to himself as he watched her. Just because she was here, didn’t mean it was going anywhere.

He offered her a drink first, and she followed him to the kitchen. While she felt better for the kebab, she knew she didn’t really need any more alcohol – and yet she still chose a glass of wine, assuming little harm in one drink more. It wasn’t like they didn’t know each other, after all.

“You know what we should do?” Taylor said brightly, getting in before the awkward what-happens-next silence could appear. As he uncorked a bottle, Harry looked at her in intrigue. “We should make a fort.”

“Like, a blanket fort?”

“No, we’re going to build a proper military fort, Harry.”

Harry laughed; god, he’d missed her sarcastic comebacks. “Okay, blanket fort it is,” he smiled at her. “D’you remember where the spare blankets are?”

She did, of course. While she went to rummage through the hallway closet, Harry poured them each a glass, leaving them on the counter as he began to shift some dining chairs into a clear space in the living room.

Building the fort wasn’t such a simple task. Taylor had a clear idea in her head, which meant bossing Harry around until it was right. After pushing the couch over, rearranging the chairs, figuring out which blankets were best where, and loading up the inside with a comfy layer to sit on, including pillows, she was finally satisfied. _Almost_.

“Harry?” Taylor called out, when he went to go grab some munchies essential for a fort. “Have you got any Christmas lights here?”

“Christmas lights?”

“We need light in here so we can turn off all the others.”

And while some might’ve told her to come up with something easier, Harry went to find the box of Christmas lights he had stored in the garage, untangling the mess of strings he hadn’t properly organised last year, until he freed a single icy blue strand. He found an extension cord to plug it into and taped it up along the ceiling of the fort, all because she asked and he would do anything to please her.

They settled inside with wine, some chocolate, and a packet of Doritos, lit by a pretty blue glow.

“Perfect,” Taylor declared, her smile melting his heart.

Toasting their glasses, the silence crept in once they took their sips. They hadn’t made the fort all that big; they could feel the other’s presence as they sat opposite each other atop the blanket floor. Taylor was still dressed in his suit jacket; she hadn’t thought to take it off. Harry wanted to, just as she wanted to undo the buttons of his black dress shirt.

“Thanks for all this,” she said safely, waving a hand at their surroundings. “For inviting me over.”

“’S my pleasure,” he replied, feeling far too formal. They were never at their best when they felt a divide between them.

Harry decided to be honest. “I’ve missed you, Taylor,” he told her gently, swallowing nerves as he watched her start to fiddle with the blanket spread beneath them.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Taylor noted, as she glanced back up at him. There was no reason to hide when he had said it first. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“How’ve you been doing? Honestly, I mean.”

“I didn’t realise this was the share-our-feelings fort,” she teased, as if that wasn’t what she had always hoped for – hearing the truth from him. “I’ve been… I’ve been good. Not every day is perfect, but who’s is?”

He nodded, taking another sip of wine for courage. “I, um. I heard about Joe… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, and he knew that. “I know I only met him the once, but you two looked happy together. He seemed like a good guy."

“He is. That’s why I broke up with him.”

It was months ago now. Things with Joe had been going well, so wonderfully well, that Taylor hadn’t been able to take it anymore. The guilt of thinking about another man was too much – she hated Harry for still popping up unexpectedly in her thoughts after all these years, and she hated herself even more for letting him. She had something good – a man who adored her and treated her right – so why couldn’t that be enough? Why did her heart want to keep chasing something that might never work?

It didn’t make sense, and part of her feared that she was making a terrible, irreversible mistake, but Taylor had said goodbye to a man she loved so that he could find someone who could love him completely, without a single doubt in their mind.

She still didn’t know if she had made the right choice. It was too late to go crawling back – she wouldn’t want Joe to take her back, anyway. He deserved better than that.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked her, the same question all her friends had been wondering. Why just leave someone like that?

Breaking off a square of chocolate, Taylor let it melt in her mouth, carefully avoiding his eyes. “I thought he was going to ask me to marry him.”

Even though it had never happened, Harry felt the blow as if she was about to show him an engagement ring. _Marriage?_ God, he had always hated the thought of someone else winning Taylor’s heart in that infinite way. Seeing her walk down the aisle for someone else would absolutely shatter his heart – and she would have no clue.

“You didn’t want to marry him?” He needed to hear her say it.

“It’s not that I didn’t love him, it’s just… it wouldn’t have been fair,” she tried to explain. “If you have to ask yourself whether or not someone is The One, then they’re probably not.”

And yet here Harry was, sitting right in front of her – she had asked herself the same thing about him, and she had still left another good, stable man on the off chance that Harry really was her happy ending.

Maybe she really had lost her mind. She was openly telling him all this, after all; strangely, she felt safe inside their blanket canopy. It felt like their secrets could be kept safe and sound, for better or worse.

“I kind of kept thinking about someone else,” Taylor admitted, for she still trusted Harry. She would never have accepted that first drink from him hours ago if she didn’t.

“That was how I felt with Camille,” Harry empathised. Even though she had hoped for it, she was still a little surprised to hear him confess. “It wasn’t anything to do with her, it was just… I don’t know.”

“Not fair to lead someone on?”

“You couldn’t let him love you when you weren’t sure,” he stated, and she nodded, taking a long sip of wine.

“I broke his heart,” she replied emotionlessly; it wasn’t something she cared to think much about, not unless she was prepared for a good cry. “Are we terrible people?”

“We’re honest,” he thought, trying to find a brighter note. Taylor cracked a small smile, which gave him his own.

“I think maybe I’m not cut out for everlasting love.”

“I don’t believe that.”

With a doubtful look, she pointed out, “I’m turning thirty-one and there’s no sign of true love on the horizon.”

“Well, for one, your birthday’s not ‘til December, so there’s plenty of time for someone to get in before then,” Harry reminded her cheerily, popping a Dorito in his mouth with a loud crunch. “Secondly, I thought you believed in love being spontaneous; the best things taking you by surprise.”

“Maybe you’re too young to understand,” she said, only joking to avoid that he had a point. She _was_ that girl, thought it wasn’t always so easy to believe that love and the joy that came with it was going to enter your own life.

“I’m not too young to understand what it’s like to want someone that maybe you shouldn’t.”

When she looked over at him, Taylor could’ve sworn he meant her. She couldn’t tell if it was the truth or if she was only seeing what she wanted to see.

Snapping off a row of chocolate, she bit a square off the end, giving him the opportunity to elaborate if he wished. She wondered how they had dipped into such a serious conversation, unlike the light-heartedness at the club and all the way here. This was what she wanted, but… it was a lot easier when she played it out in her head.

After a handful of Doritos and a sip of wine, Harry pushed on.

“You looked so beautiful at the wedding,” he said, his voice softer. “Like something out of a dream.”

In the years since, he had pictured her in his mind, looked over the photographs more times than he cared to admit. He hadn’t wanted that to be the last time he saw her, but if that was how it was meant to be, well, at least it was a magical memory.

“I was jealous,” he finally admitted.

“That I looked like a dream?” she replied without thinking, and he laughed a little.

“Of Joe.”

“Oh.” Taylor bit her lip, debating her own confession. “But you were with Camille. You looked happy – you were dancing and kissing and–”

“And I wanted to do that with you.”

She waited, long enough to make him want to backtrack and swallow his words, before she finally said, quietly, “I wanted to do that with you, too.”

“I thought I’d missed my chance.”

“I thought you had gotten over me.”

Harry smiled at her, dimples and all, and her stomach somersaulted in anticipation. “You’re impossible to get over, Taylor.”

“Okay, that’s _definitely_ a lie,” she laughed, and when he shook his head adamantly, she grabbed a Dorito out of the bag and threw it at him, the mood instantly lightening as the fort filled with their laughter.

“It’s true for me.”

“Why me? What’s so special about me?”

“We’d be up all night if you really want me to answer that.” He picked up the chip that had bounced off his chest and popped it in his mouth, while she rolled her eyes.

“Liar.”

“I kept thinking what it’d be like to marry you.”

“You’re definitely lying,” Taylor insisted, though she knew from the adoration in his eyes that he wasn’t.

“I want to marry you.”

“You’ve had way too much to drink.”

But they hadn’t really, and through their grins and the laughter in their voices, they knew that he wasn’t just joking around, not about this.

“You expect me to believe you’ve got a ring and everything picked out?” she teased.

“You don’t think there’s one waiting for you in a drawer?” he returned, nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom, and for a moment, she actually believed that he was serious. He caught it in her expression, and they both laughed at each other.

“No, you know what you should pull out right now?” Taylor grinned at the thought, glancing down at her bare left hand. “One of those– you know those lollipops that are like rings?”

Harry scrunched his nose up as he laughed, and she couldn’t stop giggling. “Of course you’d say yes if I asked you with a fucking Ring Pop.”

“I’d _eat_ it and then you’d be fucked since I’d just have a bit of plastic on my finger.”

“You mean you want something _fancier_ than a bit of plastic?”

“I want a diamond the _size_ of the lollipop!”

It was silly, of course she didn’t really mean it, and yet if it was what she really wanted, he would find a way to give it to her. God, he wished he really _did_ have one of those novelty lollipops he could give her right now; this wasn’t how he had imagined it, but he’d be damned if it wouldn’t be adorable – and undeniably memorable.

“I’ll get you all the diamonds you want, love,” Harry promised, reaching over to take her hand. Flattered as she was, she still shook her head, not quite believing this was what she was truly hearing.

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do.”

“But it’s been ages. For all you know, I could’ve turned into a huge bitch by now.”

“I really doubt that,” he smiled at her, giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s always been you, Tay.”

Chewing her lip, she couldn’t stop herself from making the same excuses she had been telling herself all these years. “But what if we’ve just fantasized this whole thing and it’s like Daisy and Gatsby where he imagined her and how things should be for so long and it turned out she wasn’t like the picture in his head and–”

“I _love_ you,” Harry wonderfully interrupted, the rest of her fearful thought instantly vanishing. “I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t.”

How long had she been waiting to hear him say that? Taylor felt like… like her heart was about to _burst_ , oh gosh, he _loved her!_

An awestruck smile blossoming on her red lips, she giggled at the amazement of finally being able to say, “I love you, too.”

“Oh thank _fuck_ , I thought I was embarrassing myself here,” he grinned, and they both laughed. Nope, no embarrassment here. “Does this mean you’ll, um… give me another chance?”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what could’ve happened between us if the timing was different.”

His brows twitched. “Is that a yes?”

Playfully rolling her eyes, she laughed, “Kiss me already!”

Resting his hand along her jaw, Harry finally leaned in to her again, kissing her with years’ worth of pent-up passion.

And just like that, their embers reconnected, sparking and spreading like wildfire, their two flames dancing together in the heart of the blaze where they had always belonged.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Harry had not woken up this contented in a long time. His eyes fluttered open that morning before Taylor’s, giving him a chance to quietly marvel over the wonder that was last night.

Both had fallen asleep in their evening attire, though his buttons were undone and his shirt half untucked, her dress hitched up around her hips where she had shifted in her sleep. She lay draped over him, her head resting on his chest, and her leg crossing over the top of his. He had an arm around her waist, hand resting on the back of her thigh respectfully.

While part of him considered sneaking up to make breakfast for her, he doubted that he would be able to extract himself without disturbing her. He didn’t want to wake her before she was ready, and yet there was another part of him that was eager to nudge her into consciousness so that she would realise her thigh was resting teasingly close to his crotch, and maybe she would do something about it.

Even though he had time to settle himself, he was as hard as he was when he awoke by the time she did too, no thanks to his active imagination. Taylor stretched as she rose, in doing so discovering his morning arousal, a little sound of surprise leaving her as her thigh brushed against the front of his trousers. “Good morning to you, too,” she poked fun at him before she had even opened her eyes, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Her heart soared; so last night hadn’t just been a dream, after all.

Tilting her head up to him, Taylor smiled softly as she opened her eyes to the man she had been waiting a long time to see again. He brushed his hand fondly over her cheek, swept her hair back from her face, and frowned slightly as he gazed into her eyes. “You slept in your contacts, didn’t you?” he guessed, recalling many mornings she had woken up beside him with sore eyes tinged red thanks to an irresponsible night before.

“ _Someone_ distracted me last night,” she answered, her eyes still managing to twinkle at the memory of kissing long and amorous under a romantic glow of fairy lights.

“’M sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll just be a minute,” she said, as she pushed herself up, taking a moment to admire Harry’s dishevelled yet completely joyous appearance below.

Crawling out of the fort, Taylor found her clutch left on the kitchen bench; she always came prepared with contact solution, just in case. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror didn’t exactly equate to Harry’s morning compliment: sleeping in her make-up was a big no-no she could already sense her make-up artist chastising her for. Once she dealt with taking out her contacts, she splashed a bit of water on her face and used a tissue to help clean up under her eyes and wipe off the remains of her lipstick. A good face mask would hopefully appease her skin later.

Harry got up to make coffee while he was waiting. He ignored his phone and the inevitable what-happened-to-you-last-night texts; the sight of Taylor stepping shyly into the kitchen some minutes later, still in his jacket from last night, was far more captivating.

“Um, if you’d like to change into something more comfortable, you’re welcome to borrow something of mine,” he offered thoughtfully, and she gave a small smile, nodding.

“Thank you.”

Entering his bedroom alone felt familiar yet oddly surreal, like she was somehow invading his privacy despite the invitation. However curious, Taylor didn’t want to touch anything; she headed straight for his wardrobe, where she milled over a multitude of options. Did she try to play it sexy, in nothing but one of his silk button-downs? She had worn expensive panties under her dress to boost her confidence, after all. But what if she had misread everything and that wasn’t really what he wanted?

She wondered if he still had any of her belongings. There were clothes that had gone missing after nights with Harry, traded with t-shirts of his that were tucked securely away in a box in her apartment, along with other memories of him. Did he have a box hidden here, where she would find a certain pair of racy red underwear she had ‘accidentally’ left behind after one heated rendezvous?

Snooping wasn’t her style; Taylor went with a safe sweater, loose on her, and a pair of sweatpants she found in a drawer. Tugging the strings tighter, they seemed to fit okay. She was more comfortable than in last night’s attire, anyway.

And while she hadn’t decided to show off, Harry was still floored when she returned to the kitchen looking unfairly adorable and every bit I-just-borrowed-my-boyfriend’s-clothes. If he hadn’t more self-control, he would’ve pressed her up against the counter and kissed her within an inch of her life right then and there.

“What’s for breakfast?” she asked, and he stared at her for a good few seconds before registering.

“Oh! Um, we’ve got some toast and– did you want eggs? I don’t really have much here– I wasn’t expecting–”

“That sounds great, Harry,” Taylor smiled at him, flattered that he still wanted to impress her, as if they hadn’t already seen each other’s highs and lows. “Can I help?”

Together they finished making breakfast, sipping their coffee while they waited for their eggs to cook. They took peanut butter on their toast, and ate at the table, neither knowing quite what to say. This wasn’t like every other time that they came back to each other – they hadn’t even slept together last night. It was different… but what did that mean?

Taylor hated to think that she was rewinding back to an unclear relationship where she never truly knew where they stood. But Harry had grown since then – they both had – and he had seemed serious last night. Her head, fogged from last night’s drinks, still couldn’t be entirely sure.

The thing to do would be to straight out ask him. But what if he didn’t say what she wanted to hear? Both of them had been living in fear of unrequited love; it was all much easier to handle when you didn’t know for certain how the other felt and there was still hope of reciprocation.

The fact that they were both here together should’ve been a major hint for both of them.

As Taylor helped to clear up their plates, Harry made his first move since they had gotten up, sliding an arm around her waist at the kitchen sink. It naturally brought a smile to her lips, though his question came as a surprise.

“You didn’t put your contacts back in, did you?”

“How can you tell?”

“You’ve been squinting at things,” Harry smiled at her, and she crinkled her nose guiltily. Wanting to give her eyes a break from contacts, she probably wasn’t doing herself many favours by offering them no aid at all, but her vision wasn’t _that_ bad; she wasn’t planning on reading anything, so she figured she’d be fine.

“Or else you were trying to read your future in your toast crumbs,” he added, teasing, this time making her roll her eyes.

“The toast crumbs predicted you getting your ass kicked in the immediate future.”

“Ooh, the crumbs are feisty today.” As his hand began to travel lower down her waist, Taylor got in first, smacking his ass before he could grab hers. He was laughing in surprise as they turned toward each other, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Can you see me okay?” Harry checked with her, as he lifted his hands to cup her face. She gave a small nod, her heart quickening at their close proximity. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Except that wasn’t quite true: he kissed her, and _that’s_ what mattered.

Taylor hugged around his waist, melting as he kissed her slowly and softly. His lips were smooth and he tasted like peanut butter, and as he took his time, god, she wanted him to take forever. She wanted _him_ forever.

Smiling dreamily as he finally broke away, she immediately wanted to make him do that again, though the words that came out her mouth were a little more serious. “About last night…”

“I meant it,” Harry promised, without missing a beat. “All of it.”

“Even the marriage part?” she nearly laughed.

“ _Especially_ that part,” he smiled truthfully, making her cheeks turn pink. “I love you, Taylor.”

And there her heart went, dancing excitedly in her chest all over again. “I love you, too… but I can’t just _marry_ you like this.”

“Well I was hoping to ask you more romantically.” They glanced down at each other, giggling at the states they were in. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as romantic as they dreamed, but it would be true to them, at least. “Would you say yes?”

“I _know_ you, Harry: you’re not that spontaneous.”

“But I know _you_ like surprises.” Suddenly, he went to get down on one knee, and when her eyes blew open, he laughed, straightening back up again. Taylor slapped his arm before leaning in to kiss him again, more forcefully this time.

“You drive me crazy, y’know?”

“Good crazy?”

She said her yes with another kiss, Harry smiling against her lips. With her arms about his neck, Taylor raised herself on her tiptoes, and Harry instantly glided his hands to the backs of her thighs, where they moved perfectly together as she jumped up into his arms, locking her legs around his waist like she’d done a thousand times before.

“We’ll be honest with each other?” she clarified, as she pressed her forehead against his. “I don’t want secrets. If something’s up, I want us to be able to talk about it.”

“Of course.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” he swore. “I just want another chance to prove to you we’re meant to be together.”

A smile reforming on her lips – god, he was good at doing that – she kissed him sweetly. “Did you really have to wait so long to tell me that?”

“ _Me?_ ” he laughed. “ _You_ could’ve said something too, you know?”

“I was waiting for _you_ to say something.”

“What if _I_ never said anything?”

“I was counting on you coming back to me.”

“Every time, baby,” he replied, cheesy as it was, and she giggled, for she really had missed him. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go back to kissing you in the fort.”

“What did I _just_ say about honesty?” she reminded him, to his confusion. She lowered her voice, “I know you want to do more than kiss me.”

Which of course was true, and they were left giggling wonderfully as Harry carried her back to their blanket fort, where he carefully set her down outside and crawled in after her.

The blankets on the floor were crumpled from their slumber and the leftovers of last night’s snacks were still shoved in a corner, though they were _much_ too interested in each other to notice. They could hardly stop smiling as they reconnected lips and uncovered skin, helping each other out of their clothes with both familiarity and complete and utter excitement. Their physical spark had never dulled, and yet it was so much more than that. It had always been more than that.

“Are you still on–”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still okay with–”

“Yes, baby.”

Bare skin on bare skin, Taylor wrapped a leg around his waist, encouraging. She still trusted him with her body completely; she wanted to give him everything, just as much as he wanted to give her all of him. Always.

Not a single other thing mattered when their bodies joined, feeling as absolutely enthralling as it had all those years ago.

“ _Taylor_ ,” Harry sighed blissfully at the sheer wonder of lying atop her again; he was yet to even move. “Oh, Taylor.”

Sliding a hand up into his hair, Taylor kissed him eagerly, silently returning the sentiment. For no matter how long it had been, their raw desire never ceased to amaze. Only this time…

This time exuded a beautiful, sparkling “I love you”.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Maybe this time, that promise could be enough.

 

*** * * * ***

 

> _Good morning, beautiful. Heading off to the studio early today. Already fed the cats. Meredith bit me again. I won’t be getting her any treats on the way home. I’ll call if we have any bright sparks (or if we need your genius again). Have a lovely day, Tay. _
> 
> _– H xxx_

It had been six months, and handwritten notes, daily texts, and nightly cuddles had become the new norm.

The transition back into each other’s lives was almost seamless. After their blissful week of reconnection after the Brits, where they hid out together in their blanket fort catching up on years lost, they got back to talking regularly, sending texts and laughing over FaceTime. Harry was back to receiving copious amounts of cat pictures, while Taylor got to hear more silly jokes than was entirely necessary, and it all felt normal again.

They had barely spent a week apart before Harry had booked a flight to Nashville to surprise her. On their first date at a local restaurant, he had brought her a Ring Pop, and Taylor had known in her heart that this ridiculous, kind-hearted man was the one she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

Between their work schedules, they spent as much time together as they could. If it wasn’t at her place then it was at his, until they decided to take the leap and move in somewhere they could really call theirs. They sold their London houses, saying goodbye to the street that had tied them together even when they seemed lightyears apart, and found an apartment there to share. Decorating together had been the best part, though as time began to pass, they realised they could’ve had an empty flat, for all it mattered. Waking up beside their lover was what really made it feel like home.

There were those who thought they were moving too fast, family and friends who didn’t want to see them get hurt again. They didn’t bother with even glances at what was said about them by strangers who had nothing better to do than try to dissect their lives. Those people didn’t know who they really were – they never would.

And maybe it would only ever make sense to the two of them. No two loves were the same – how could they explain what it was like to look at someone, even after all these years, and feel like you had stumbled upon not one star to marvel at but a whole damn universe sparkling with starlight? To always be intrigued and excited and long to be the one who made them feel just the same?

_Maybe we could write a song about it._

They would, one day. They would write albums full of them, record some together, and not care at all about those who would tell them that their love was wrong.

Those weren’t the ones who were receiving adoring kisses and unspoken promises, after all.

Notes and new Polaroids were tucked into journals, pinned up on walls. Harry had gotten a new tattoo last month, another little drawing on his left arm to add to his mismatched collection, and was trying to subtly suggest that she should get one with him the next time he went. Taylor had thought about it before (think of all her tattooed friends, after all), but she was yet to admit that. Matching tattoos was a step she wasn’t _quite_ so sure she was ready for.

Instead, Taylor had uncovered, much to his amazement, the paper airplane necklace Harry had given her all those years ago, and showed him and everyone else that she had never forgotten.

She never would.

 

*** * * * ***

 

In one year’s time, Taylor had an engagement ring on her finger. A proper one – not just the plastic ones from the Ring Pop’s Harry endearingly continued to give her. The diamond wasn’t as big as the lollipop, of course, though it sparkled brilliantly in its silver band. It was her most favourite gift, was only going to be topped by the wedding ring Harry was going to replace it with.

 

*** * * * ***

 

“Do I look okay?”

After eight months more, Taylor was finally laced in the wedding dress of her dreams. Delicate and dreamy, she had matching flowers in her hair – she looked like she had stepped right off a cloud, an ethereal image of wonder.

“You look beautiful, honey,” her mother sighed at the vision of her daughter as a blushing bride.

“Do you think he’ll think so?”

“You could walk down the aisle in a paper bag and he would think you look beautiful,” her maid of honour, Abigail, assured her, smiling at their reflections in the hotel room mirror. “You _would_ look beautiful.”

The girls laughed, bubbling with enthusiasm over their switched places. A few years ago had been Abigail’s turn, and now it was Taylor’s – they had come a long way since their high school days.

“Are you nervous?”

“In the excited way,” Taylor grinned, bouncing on her toes, holding her hands over her heart. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

She wasn’t the only one. There were a lot of people with a lot of opinions about her and Harry, but none of it mattered. There was nothing that anyone could say that would change how they felt for each other; it wasn’t like the first time round. White noise couldn’t silence the devotion that glowed in every look, every word, every touch.

They had planned a quieter wedding, limiting the guest list to their closest family and friends. They wanted the ceremony to be intimate, and undoubtedly private – they had been careful to keep the details from the hands of any reporters. Their special day wouldn’t be ruined by prying eyes; no one would find them in the quiet gardens they had booked in the English countryside.

Together, Taylor and Harry had gone to visit the gardens a few months back and had known immediately that that was the spot. The next time they kissed under an archway of roses would be as husband and wife.

“Can you pinch me, please?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Ed promised him, in the other room the boys were sharing. All the lads were there, making for a rather raucous group of groomsmen.

“Are you sure he’s not dreaming? He _is_ about to marry Taylor – how long have you been waiting for this?” Louis teased good-naturedly, as Harry checked his hair again in the mirror.

“Fuck off,” Harry laughed. It had been an awfully long time since he had first fantasized about being with Taylor – if he had known then that he would one day be marrying her, he never would’ve believed it. “I don’t need any of you to be giving any speeches tonight, alright?”

“You’re just worried about all the good material you’ve given us over the years,” Louis said, the _exact_ reason why he hoped they would keep quiet. “How about we start with when–”

“We won’t go ruining the best day of your life,” Liam, thankfully, cut in with a reassuring smile. “Will we, lads?”

The best day of his life. He had done some pretty incredible things in his career – he could never have imagined the life he had experienced, from his X Factor audition to date. But falling in love and immortalising it with vows and a ring was on a whole different level altogether.

There had been a chance that everything would fall apart, that they had been wrong about each other being their most complete match. There was still that chance, and yet neither of them had any intention of walking away.

At their best and at their worst, they only wanted each other. That’s what real love truly was.

How funny it was that the last wedding either of them had been to was Ed and Cherry’s, where they had secretly longed to be in the arms of each other once again. Now, Ed had written a song specially for the two of them, just like they had always wanted.

There was nothing they wanted more, as they took cars to the gardens, all set up for the ceremony. Harry’s heart pounded as he waited at the altar, his groomsmen at his side. He thought it may just jump right out of his chest as the bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle, followed by Taylor accompanied by her father. The second their eyes met, they both utterly lit up, love-struck smiles illuminating their faces.

It may have taken some time, where they had thought the other would never know how they had always felt, but after all these years, their love had come back to each other.

And that was where it was meant to stay.


End file.
